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and there is where the expert looks for and finds them. It would be just as useless to look for trout in his spring haunts in August as to look for him in his summer haunts in May. Intermediately, from the middle of June to the middle of July, they are on the move. It is their transition period, when they are everywhere in small numbers, but abundant nowhere. And during this period there are probably more visitors in the woods than during any other thirty days of the year. If they have any hankering for fish or any taste for angling, they could not select, through the whole season, any period less propitious. Hence it is no uncommon thing for parties in the woods at this time to find it absolutely impossible to catch fish enough for use. But this is not surprising. Experts are too wise to go fishing during these thirty days, and only experts could lure any considerable number of fish, by any process, while they are thus passing from the swift waters to the quiet spring holes.

It was my fortune upon one occasion, when homeward bound, far on in June, to fall in with a party of six or eight who were camped where a fortnight before the trout were so abundant that I could catch a day's supply for a dozen men in a couple of hours. But I found this party literally fishless, and the most profoundly disgusted group

of disconsolates I ever saw. Some of them had been there before, in proper season, and had done splendidly; and they had brought their friends with them now, anticipating equal success. I explained to them their mistake, recounted to them my own experience of a fortnight before, and, out of sheer sympathy, escorted them two miles to a favorite and secluded pond, where the trout are equally plenty at all seasons, and where they were made happy by abundant sport. Not one of these gentlemen ever afterward "fooled away his time" by fishing on the "riffs" when the trout had changed their quarters to the spring holes.

The somewhat monotonous outlet between the lower and middle Saranac opens into Round Lake, from the upper part of which, one of the grandest mountain views reveals itself to be had in all the woods. I have counted thirty well-defined peaks, the whole combined by a series of gracefully undulating curves which delight the eye of every appreciative lover of nature. My friend Palmer, the sculptor, carries this view in his memory today, and it will not be obliterated by any thing he may see in his present rambles among the grander, but no more beautiful mountain views of Switzerland.

Bartlett's somewhat famous hostelry stands at the head of this lake and is the summer resort of

several greatly esteemed brethren of the anglenotably Dr. Romeyn, of Keeseville, whose twenty odd annual visits to these woods have only rendered them the dearer and the more attractive to him. He has caught, the true spirit of the art, and is as cheery and joyous in camp as he is genial and accomplished in social life. And so is William A. Wheeler, who seeks and finds here the repose and invigoration which enables him to discharge his official duties at Washington with such exemplary promptness and fidelity. I doubt whether the highest office in the gift of the people would tempt him for a moment, if its acceptance would deprive him of the pleasure and benefit he derives from his annual visit to these pleasant woods and

waters.

A short walk takes us over "Indian Carry," and a short row across the lake to Corey's-where I always manage to dine or sup, because Mrs. Corey is the best cook in the woods, and never fails to give me a cup of coffee as I taught her to make it fifteen years ago. There is, besides, generally some quiet angler sojourning here, whose company and conversation always insures a pleasant evening. I know of no better place between Plattsburgh and Potsdam to rest.

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ASSING from Corey's across a half mile carry, we strike a series of ponds which empty through Stony brook into the Raquette. Many years ago, when I first came here, this carry was covered with a dense growth of beautiful pines. But the demand for lumber was too pressing to be resisted, and this

still delightful spot is denuded of its most attractive feature. The work of lumbering is being pushed vigorously within practical distances of all the water-courses of sufficient

volume to float the logs to manufacturing points, of which Plattsburg, Potsdam and Glen's Falls are the principal. During the winter the logs are cut and placed upon the ice, ready for the spring freshets, and from the time of breaking up until well on in May, there is scarcely an available stream which is not filled with these moving masses. And yet the Rev. Mr. Murray, in his famous book, contrasting the Adirondacks with the forests of Maine, says of the former that they retain their primitive beauty because "the sound of the woodman's ax has never been heard" among them. If the reverend gentleman's theology is as loose as his facts, it must be a poor commodity.

But these annual drafts upon this wilderness are scarcely perceptible to the casual observer. Pine and spruce and hemlock constitute but a very small percentage of the entire forest, which remains seemingly as dense as if the woodman's ax had really never been heard here or the lumberman had never responded to the demands of commerce.

Stony brook (through which we pass to the Raquette) besides the water of its two or three ponds, has the flow from Ampersand brook, which has its supply from Ampersand pond, which lies some five miles up the mountain. The outlet of this brook is famous for its summer fishing, but it has never been my fortune to strike it at just the right mo

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